


Sweater Weather

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Phan - Freeform, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan had anticipated this ever since he met Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exit Music

What was most indicatory of Dan’s moods was his music. Every emotion required a paint chip in the spectrum of his dispositions, little technicolour post-it notes cast away. There were playlists that represented his every feeling – there was one for confusion, one for hopelessness, one for happiness. Dan had recently created another one whilst crippled in his bed, his phone light highlighting his sharp features, his tightened grimace and weary eyes. He flicked through his phone.

The ticking clock in his room seemed to be mocking him in the background. He sighed, though there was nothing to sigh for – Dan felt emptiness. Nothingness. How could you describe that in song?

Finally, he got to the letter ‘E’ in his music list – Radiohead’s Exit Music (For a Film) became the premiere tune for his playlist.

He couldn’t sleep – the streetlights inked the black night outside and filtered through his gauzy curtains; the clock was too loud and he was deathly afraid. Phil had finally found someone to take his place, not that Dan had ever taken that place anyway. Officially. It just seemed like an agreement on legal paper and in brand name.

Muse’s Soldier’s Poem became the second song on the playlist. He could hear Phil laugh in the next room. God, how long could he talk to her for –

Well, to be fair, he couldn’t complain. Skype calls, remember that? He didn’t want to, at this point. Not yet. He won’t admit it’s out of his reach. Yet.

He’s so selfish and he felt insignificant. Small. He suddenly felt as if he was taking up too much space.  
Violet Hill. Coldplay. His head felt like sludge. He was slipping. Like paint. The portraiture of his life was being reconstructed without Phil. Or rather, Phil’s without Dan.

I Can't Make You Love Me. Bonnie Raitt. He chuckled at that, painfully. He felt the fog of disillusionment seeping, finally, into his soul. He was such a fucking cliché. Dan closed his eyes, squeezing them and seeing stars.  
Sweater Weather. The Neighbourhood. How Long Will I Love You? Ellie Goulding. He was so pathetic.

Phil laughed again in the other room. Dan opened his eyes as Phil said goodbye on the other side of the wall. He pulled the blankets around himself. The house felt so small, claustrophobic. His body was trapping him. He closed his eyes but his mind chugged on like a freight train, filling his head with the fumes of imagination. His heart thudded like wild horses, threatening to break free against his ribcage. He couldn’t stand to look at his phone anymore. He was too tired. He wanted to be asleep.

A light found its way into the room, disturbing Dan. Dan stirred, tired, looking up at the silhouette of Phil.

“Dan?” he said quietly. “Are you asleep?”

“I am trying to be, you plebeian,” Dan replied, drowsily. He didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t take the sight of Phil.

“Well, alright, then,” Phil whispered. “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, then.”

“About what?” Dan said, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Just sleep. ‘night.”

Dan didn’t reply. He knew what he was going to put on his playlist in the morning: Afraid by the Neighbourhood.

You’re too mean, I don’t like you, fuck you anyway

You make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs…

He drifted into sleep as the song faded out of his head.

***  
He rose at about eleven AM the next morning. When Dan was fully awake, he crinkled his nose up at the stench of his room. How long has it been since he last cleaned? Underwear and other assortments of garments littered his floor and he couldn’t tell carpet from clothing.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at the rest of the room. The clutter made him feel angry at himself. He grumbled and got out of bed, trudging his way to the kitchen like a school boy on his way to his Monday morning class. He saw Phil there, already dressed, bounding around like a puppy. His back was turned to him and Dan could hear the dings of the microwave go off. Phil made his way over and saw Dan in the reflection of the machine.

“Dan! You scared me,” Phil laughed as he turned around. Dan didn’t reply and made his way to the cereal cupboard.  
“We’re out of your favourite, sorry about that,” Phil continued sheepishly. Dan rolled his eyes and settled for the only other option and made his cereal. An awkward silence was hanging between them. Phil coughed forcibly and sat in front of Dan. Dan looked intently at his cereal and pushed a few pieces out of the way. His appetite has gone down considerably in the last few days.

“So, Dan,” Phil said, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “I have something to tell you.”

“Mm,” Dan grunted.

“It’s about Monica,” Phil said slowly. Dan burned with jealousy but he forced himself to look interested.

“Yeah, what about her?” Dan asked quietly.

“Are you sure you had a good sleep? You look like the dead,” Phil commented. Dan rolled his eyes and just asked Phil to keep talking about his girlfriend.

“Well, you know how we’ve been dating for a few months now – ” Phil said.

“Eleven,” Dan said.

“Yeah, eleven months,” Phil said, confusedly. Dan had been counting the months. He didn’t expect the relationship to last so long.

“She’s probably made me the happiest I’ve ever been and she’s really quite a nice girl…”

Phil continued to talk about Monica. Monica Del Olmo-Espinosa was a Spanish-American beauty, even Dan couldn’t deny that. She was absolutely charming, he had to admit. And she had a degree in law. A Master’s. Better than Dan had ever done.

She was smart, good looking, and funny and has a smile like the goddamn sun and he refused to warm up to her.

Most importantly, however, she was so in love with Phil, it exuded from her and it was obvious to see that Phil reciprocated those sentiments.

Plus, she was a girlfriend. Dan is a friend, only a roommate. A colleague. On Phil’s deathbed, his relationship would mean nothing compared to Monica. Friendship doesn’t get you into hospital wings, it doesn’t garner you any appreciation. It doesn’t even matter that Dan had been the best he could be beside Phil – it doesn’t account for anything.

“Uh, Dan?” Phil said.

“Huh?”

“I just told something important and you didn’t hear me,” Phil said disappointedly.

“Sorry, Phil, just a bit zoned out,” Dan said, picking at his cereal.

“Well, you didn’t hear that I want to move out.”

This got Dan’s attention.

“What?”

“With Monica.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to live with my girlfriend and it’s not that I don’t want to stay with you but – ”

“She comes into your life and, suddenly, I’m the one who has to be pushed aside?” Dan said meekly, anger, envy and confusion rising quickly.

“Well, we weren’t going to be living together forever, Dan. I mean, be reasonable!”

Dan pushed his chair back and picked up his cereal, exiting the room.

“Dan! Please, come back,” Phil said, following. Dan closed the door loudly and bolted it shut. He set the cereal on his bedside table and curled up in his bed. The blankets covered him as he trembled. He heard the front door open and shut loudly outside and Dan let out a sigh. And, quietly, he began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based off 'Exit Music (for a film)' by Radiohead


	2. All of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”  
> ― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

Phil came home in the afternoon, just as the sun had set. Dan turned up the volume of the TV, watching a rerun of _Game of Thrones_ that he was only half paying attention to. His knees were pulled up to his chest on the couch. He didn’t look up at Phil as he came through the door.

“Are you okay?”  Phil said.

Dan wanted to scream – _he_ was asking after _Dan_ had rudely marched away.

Dan glanced up at Phil and his breath hitched. This man, this sole human being, had saved him from collapsing in on himself. _You made me the best I could possibly have ever been. And now you’re leaving me._

Phil settled beside Dan, close enough to touch. Phil’s breath lingered on his shoulders and he was looking apprehensively at Dan. Dan turned his head to look at Phil.

“Moving out won’t change anything,” Phil said. “We’ll still be best friends. We’ll still do the radio show. Monica’s place is only a walk away from BBC anyway.”

Dan gulped. “And what about me?”

Phil didn’t say anything. He just looked at Dan, the silence drowned out by the garble of the TV. Dan looked up, pulling his knees closer towards him.

Phil looked down and snaked his hand along Dan’s arm to rest on his hand. He slowly picked up Dan’s fingers in his own and pulled them onto the couch, holding Dan’s hand.

“Dan, please talk to me,” Phil said. Dan just shook his head.

“What am I going to do when I have an existential crisis?” Dan asked. “When I’m anxious? When I’m sad?”

_I need you. I want you._

“Dan, you’re a grown man,” Phil said. Dan yanked his hand away from Phil and left the room. He collapsed on his bed and curled up underneath his blankets with his headphones and phone. He started playing the _Exit Music_ playlist and tried so hard not to think.

_Wake from your sleep_

_The drying of your tears…_

"You have to talk to me about this," Phil said barging into the room. He picked up Dan's blankets and threw them over the edge of the bed to reveal Dan underneath. Dan rolled over and scampered to the other side of the bed, away from Phil's grasp. 

"C'mon, I need your thoughts on this." Phil resigned to the corner of Dan's bed. Dan's back faced him and he looked vulnerable under his white t-shirt, like he was a teenager again.

After a while, Phil sighed and reached forward to grab Dan's hand. Dan let him take it limply as he turned to face Phil.

"This hurts me too, you know," Phil muttered. 

"So don't go," Dan said, pulling his headphones out. He props himself up on his elbow to look at Phil. "You don't have to go." 

"I do. I need to be with Monica - "

"You have me," Dan said quietly. Phil shuddered as he looked at Dan. Dan looked up, his eyes soft and sad. Phil touched Dan's face with one hand, tracing his jaw and lips with his thumb. Phil suddenly leaned forward, almost touching Dan's lips with his own as he pushed Dan onto his back. He wanted to be with Dan, he wanted to kiss Dan. 

But he couldn't. Phil pulled away, gulping as Dan's eyes slowly fluttered open, dazed and confused as the day Phil first met him. Then sadness settled into the place of confusion. 

Phil realized he still had a tight grip on Dan's hand and he let it go, jumping off of the bed. He cleared his throat and said, "I should probably start packing." 

***

The world churned forward, on and on even as Dan could feel himself wilting like a flower. He sat in the cab on the way to the studio. Phil had gone to visit Monica the day before and had not returned so Dan made his way alone to the radio show. It was sort of a blessing in disguise - he could recollect his thoughts without having Phil's presence near him, reminding him that he was not okay.

How long can he keeping going with this ruse of being simply a best friend to Phil? Dan could see into Phil and Phil into him – just imagine if they could walk down town hand in hand without having a space between them. If Dan could look at Phil and not have to worry about cameras and the audience’s opinion or the world – and they could have a little pocket of the world to themselves until that fated meteor comes crashing through their living room window. Or maybe until they were old and sitting across from each other in their little rocking chairs and Dan could look at Phil in complete devotion and undying infatuation. Dan chuckled to himself – _till death do us part._ Underneath the black sarcasm and dead pan expression, the self-deprecation and bleak existentialism, Dan was a bruised and broken optimist with a drive to live. More often than not, however, that Dan lived under a pile of sediments six-foot-under in a heart shaped box. The world was a coffin for that good man. And, anyways, Dan Howell was danisnotonfire and he had a persona to keep up.

He arrived at the BBC and handed over his money to the driver, making his way inside to brace the flood of his own emotions.

***

“And… we’re back! You’re listening to Dan and Phil in the studio for BBC Radio 1 on the fourteenth of February and its Valentine’s Day,” Phil said, playing an intro song for their next segment. Dan hadn’t looked at Phil properly for this entire session. All he did was eye the clock behind Phil – _only half an hour to go._

“On the subject of Valentine’s Day, Dan, isn’t it weird that we celebrate this day? What’s the history behind it?” Phil asked.

“Well, the day is named after Saint Valentine, a Catholic priest who married soldiers in secret. They had a law in Rome that soldiers could only be devoted to the country and they couldn’t get married,” Dan replied, pretending to be preoccupied by the buttons in front of him.

“And so they killed him on the fourteenth of February for breaking the law,” Phil added, laughing. “How uplifting. You know, it got me thinking because my girlfriend, Monica, is from Barcelona and they have two Valentine’s Days!”

“Two? What do they do on the second one?” Dan said, looking up at Phil, glancing over his plaid-clad figure. He seemed radiant. Monica must make him so happy.

Dan kicked himself mentally. _Snap out of it._

“They have St. George’s Day as well, or as known as _La Dia de Sant Jordi_. Men on that day celebrate St. George’s gesture of saving a princess from a dragon by buying their girlfriends a book.”

Dan forced a laugh. “You’re so full of useless facts. I remember from back when I did French that, in France, they celebrated Valentine’s Day because the birds in the country started to mate mid-February.”

Dan gulped and looked up at Phil, who was waiting for him to continue. “The boys in France would have to give flowers to their girlfriends and say _Amour de ma vie_ or- or… something like that.” Dan looked away awkwardly. On national radio, on bloody Valentine’s Day, Dan had just told Phil, in his worst French, ‘Love of my life.’ _Christ._

Phil wasn’t going to let it fall flat, however.

“Yeah, the German have something like that as well. A boy is meant to give his girlfriend a bouquet of flowers,” Phil said, “It makes me really sad that German has this stereotype of being a harsh and angry language but it’s got some pretty nice phrases.”

“Like what?” Dan asked, looking up at the other people in the studio. They didn’t seem to be getting bored or wanting them to stop. Dan hated himself in this moment – he felt suffocated. All the lights were on them and Dan and Phil were forced to speak to each other, on _Valentine’s Day_ of all fucking days. About phrases of love. In different languages.

“In German class, they taught us to say _Du bist die Liebe meines Lebens_ which means ‘You’re the love of my life’,” Phil said to Dan, “Or, the saucier, _Küss mich_ , which means ‘Kiss me.’” Avoiding looking at Dan, Phil continued, laughing, “So, there you go, now you all know that German is not such an angry language.”

Dan was in a world of hurt. He felt as if his head was spinning. He felt like lead.

“Kolla yawm ashtaaqo laki aktar.” Dan shut his eyes and clasped his mouth as Phil’s eyes shot up.

“I’m sorry?” Phil asked.

“Well, I-I, I…um, I have an Ar- Arabic relative and I heard her talking on the phone once and she said ‘Every day I miss you more’, as said in my terrible accent,” Dan said, laughing it off as a joke. He wanted to have the earth consume him in that second. He wanted to disappear. He didn’t want to be here – he wanted to be at home with his headphones in.

“Monica taught me a few Spanish words too,” Phil said. His eyes looked sad. It felt like there were only two people in the room.

“Oh, yeah?” Dan egged him on, swallowing, “What are those? Give us your best Spanish, Phil.”

“Te querré para siempre,” Phil whispered into the mike. “It means ‘I will love you always.’”

Dan sighed involuntarily and he tried to pass it off as a cough. He stopped the conversation right there as he was saved by a song.

“Today’s song suggestion comes from Paula from Brighton who wants to tell her husband, the Captain of the Army Reserves, that she and her daughter miss him loads on Valentine’s Day. So, here’s to you Jason – _Hey There Delilah_ by the Plain White T’s.”

Dan and Phil took off their headphones as the song started playing. Dan couldn’t look over at Phil though he could feel his gaze on him like a red hot poker.

A terrifying thought flew through his head. He looked up at Phil, who was oblivious to him. He sighed - the day he will stop loving Phil would be the day hell freezes over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading :)
> 
> By the way, I am so excited for TABINOF. I'm very proud of Dan and Phil :D
> 
> Title based off 'All of Me' by John Legend.


	3. Lonely Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk through London seems like a world away.

Fleeing the studio as soon as possible was probably the best decision for Dan's heart. The ball was in Phil's court - he can choose to come home to Dan, or go to Monica. It was up to Phil to love him.  
  
Dan took the long way round - he didn't want to go home so soon. He walked down the streets of his city. This industrial canyon with its overcast skies and gun metal grey clouds and glossed pathways; the sodium lights pooling in his reflection, giving him an orange display; and the treacle of his bittersweet memories would be linked to this city, whatever good and bad it possessed. It was a starless, moonless sky but the neon lights set fire to the dead of night. He blended into the walls and felt more relaxed without the sting of studio lights on him. Dan turned his face up to the sky and felt the cool breeze on his skin - it felt good to be alive.  
  
He sat down in a gazebo in some park in some part of town. He felt so wonderfully unknown. How badly he had wanted to be someone - now, the privacy of nonexistence was welcome.  
  
Dan sat back and looked down at the city in front of him, all lights and soft whirring. He took a breath for the first time in what felt like forever. He let his façade drop.  
  
Phil Lester, his friend, was unimaginably happy. He was moving on with his life so why couldn't Dan fulfill his job as a best friend and just be happy for him? Phil was with the love of his life, who was absolutely perfect in every standard. Why was Dan eclipsing Phil's happiness with his own stupid feelings? He should really just let him go.  
  
Dan sighed and fiddled with his earring unconsciously. He folded his arms over his chest and tried to compose himself.  
  
Dan just wanted to be a part of Phil's life. He wanted to be the cause of his best friend's happiness and share the most incredible memories with him - is he selfish for thinking that? Doesn't every best friend want that?  
  
He didn't know what to think. For so long he had been at Phil's side. He couldn't remember what he was without his place in Phil's world.  
  
Dan reached into his pocket. His phone was buzzing. It was Phil.  
  
Dan picked up.  
  
"Phil?" he said shakily.  
  
"Dan, where are you?" Phil asked. He could hear the sound of TV in the background.  
  
"I - I don't know," Dan gulped. "I'm in a park."  
  
"That's helpful," Phil said.  
  
"It's a thirty minute walk from the studio," Dan said. He wanted to cry. Why couldn't Phil see that he was hurting? Well, he had no obligation to deal with him, Dan thought to himself.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to look for you. Don't move," Phil demanded. Dan liked hearing the anxious tone in Phil's voice. He was an attention whore, what could he say. It was one of his many flaws.  
  
***  
  
It didn't take long for Phil to find Dan. He was sitting in a gazebo and stood out like a sore thumb.  
  
Dan eyed the black Mini that was approaching him, a woman in the driver's seat and a voice calling his name.  
  
The car finally rolled up and Phil jumped out of the car. Monica followed but Phil signaled for her to stay in the car. Monica gave Phil a look and Phil nodded back - he wanted to meet Dan alone.  
  
Dan looked up at Phil approaching and felt ashamed of himself. He was a six foot three child. He was a burden on not only his flatmate but his fiancé as well.  
  
"Hey," Phil said, sitting next to Dan, their knees touching. Dan didn't reply and stared dead ahead at the lights.  
  
"Dan, are you okay?" Phil asked, looking at Dan's face for answers.  
  
"Yes," Dan replied curtly.  
  
"Please don't lie to me," Phil said softly.  
  
"You know the answer so why did you bother to ask?"  
  
"Come home with me," Phil said pleadingly. Dan sighed and looked down at his hands. Before he knew it, Phil had grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Dan looked up. Phil's mosaic eyes were downcast.

"I can't," Dan answered finally, lacing his fingers in Phil's. This was sin. He shouldn't be holding the hand of another woman's man. He shouldn't be doing this at all. They were hooded in the cloak of night so Monica could never know that they were holding hands like school kids, shyly and quite unsure of what to do. He was hyper aware of Phil's touch, of Phil's fingertips touching the back of his hand. He was even more aware of the metal around his ring finger. He pulled his hand away from Phil's and Phil let him go. 

"Please," Phil asked. "For me." 

Dan laughed. Damn, he sure knew which strings to pull, didn't he? 

"Even if you don't want to, you can't stay in a park forever. It's cold and I'm pretty sure it's going to rain soon," Phil advised. Now he was playing to Dan's logos.

Dan resigned to logic. "Fine. Just once." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Title from 'Lonely Soul' by Unkle


	4. The Hardest Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three's a crowd, pizza and unspoken words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this was hella cringeworthy at parts lol.  
> Please tell me if it was! Or if there are any mistakes or anything :D
> 
> Oh, yes, pardon my Spanish! I do not speak the language so if any of you can correct it, that would be brilliant.
> 
> Title based off 'The Hardest Part' by Coldplay.

Dan’s heart thudded in syncopation. He stepped into Monica’s house and an immediate smell of lavender filled the air. It seemed that Monica had an inclination toward minimalist white furniture and white walls.

“Welcome, Dan,” Monica said, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s nice to have you finally visit.”

“I hate to be a bother,” Dan said, unaware of where to look as Phil and Monica looked at him.

“No, never! We’re actually complete slobs today,” Monica said, laughing. “We were just about to order pizza when Phil started panicking –”

“I think we should order the pizza,” Phil interrupted, making his way to the living room, leaving Monica and Dan by themselves. Monica was at least a foot shorter than both Dan and Phil with matted brown hair. She wore bright red lipstick and was wearing a business suit. She carried several folders with her. She still managed to be polite _and_ manage her stressful work life – she was absolutely _perfect_. He couldn’t believe that a person like this could exist but, she did – and she was Phil’s. Two perfect people in one relationship. What a glorious feeling that must be.

Monica gave a polite cough and snapped Dan out of his thoughts.

“Phil talks about you all the time,” she said, signalling for Dan to follow her into the living room. “You’re quite the musician, I hear.”

“I crapily play the piano now and then,” Dan said, distracted by the designs on the wall. “Did you paint these?”

“Yes, just a hobby,” Monica said. She pointed to a sketch of the Sagrada Familia. “That one’s my favourite.”

Dan could see why. She had used many different colour pencils to achieve a kind of psychedelic scribble of the famous structure. It was frenzied and filled the page with an explosion of hues.

“What do you think?” Monica asked Dan. She looked confident in her abilities and didn’t look surprised when Dan commented on the sheer beauty of the piece.

“I would love to hear you play sometime,” Monica asked Dan. “Phil loves instrumental music.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan sighed, glancing over the rest of Monica’s pieces. She laughed.

“ _Tu es tan lindo_ , Daniel,” Monica said, squeezing Dan’s arm with her free hand. She then linked her arm in his and led him to the dining table, where Phil finished up with his call. He put the phone down and grinned as he looked up. Upon noticing their arms linked, Phil smiled. He sat at the head of the table and Monica let go to glide over to her fiancé.

“I’ll be back in a mo,” Monica said, mostly to Phil, pulling him down for a peck on the cheek. Dan felt forced to look at the corner of the roof, which looked interesting at that very moment. Monica bounded away and Dan looked at Phil, who stood awkwardly in his own house.

“Sit, Dan,” Phil said, sitting down at the dining table. Dan did as ordered and looked down at his twiddling thumbs. This felt so different and uncomfortable – they were best friends and, yet, why did it feel as if they were strangers? The lack of posters, house plants, kaleidoscopic thingamabobs and Phil-esque atmosphere made him feel queasy, especially as this is where Phil will be spending the rest of his life. Where were the Adventure Time collectables, Death Note plush toys and his Buffy collection? He looked up at Phil, who was busy fiddling with his ring.

“When are you going to get your things out of the flat?” Dan asked. Phil sighed and looked up at Dan, who couldn’t look his best friend in the eye anymore. Where was that playful, calm and easy atmosphere gone between them? Did this happen just because Phil had a relationship besides Dan? Just because your friend gets a fiancé, does that mean that relationship takes all the love away from yours?  

“I don’t know, Dan,” Phil said. “I don’t even want to.”

“But you love her, Phil,” Dan said, “and she so obviously loves you.”

“And I love her,” Phil replied. He stared at Dan. Dan couldn’t pull away from that gaze.

_But what, Phil? Please, move, move away where I can’t chase you._

“You have to move,” Dan said, sitting back in his chair.

“How can I leave you?”

“Easily. I’m your best friend. I understand,” Dan said, strangely firmly. “You’re moving on with the love of your life.”

“I will always come and visit, you know,” Phil said.

“Phil, you don’t even talk when you’re playing Crossy Road, how can you visit me when you’re _married?_ ”

That was meant to be a joke. It was meant to lighten the stone that was his sinking soul.

He reached his foot forward under the desk and touched Phil’s leg.

“Dan, I – ” Phil started.

“What?”

“I really – ” Phil stopped, sighing. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up, trying to find the words to say. Dan was feeling more than he could articulate and he leapt further forward on the table to reach Phil. He wanted to reassure Phil; he wanted to let Phil know that he had all the time in the world. He didn’t have to wait for words. He was so stupidly deprived of eloquence and Phil deserved better than he was getting on Dan’s part.

“Phil, I –” Dan said, his breath hitching. The air was eating up the words in the fume of his lungs, the furnace of his passion overpowering his senses – the world was going grey, save for Phil’s lips; he was numb to everything except Phil’s breath.

And, suddenly, the safety of each other’s company was interrupted by the ding of the pizza at the door.

***

Eating a pizza with a couple to be married while you’re the only one left out was crushing. What was that Sylvia Plath quote from when he was in eleventh grade? _There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room_ or something like that. He couldn’t fucking believe it – he was actually quoting Plath. Was he going to tap-dance to _Mad Girl’s Love Song_ now as well? _Get a grip, Dan Howell_ , he thought to himself.

Well, Plath was right – Dan was undeniably third-wheeling. Or maybe Monica was third-wheeling. Suddenly, the conversations whilst eating pepperoni deteriorated from inside jokes between the fiancés or best friends to mentions of the weather to silence. Dan was grateful to stare down at his slice without having the social pressure to interrupt Phil and Monica’s private bubble.

However, Monica seemed awfully determined to pull the trio together. She turned to Dan. “So, Dan, what kind of music are you into? I’ve heard a lot about your interests from Phil but nothing from the man himself!” Monica laughed at her own joke, whilst waiting for Dan to answer between titanic bites of his slices. He gobbled a mouthful down quick to answer her.

“Well, anything good really, but Muse is definitely a personal favourite,” Dan answered.

“Do you play the instrumental versions his songs, then?”

“Um, _his_?” Dan enquired.

“Muse is a band, Monica,” Phil said, giggling to himself. Monica punched him in the arm playfully. Dan had to smile and he appreciated Monica’s effort immensely. It was a whole lot better than either Phil or Dan’s half-arsed attempts at socializing with each other, or with Monica, so having the lawyer there seemed not to be a bad idea.

“I’m sorry, I’m not all that into music,” Monica said apologetically. “Do you play _their_ music instrumentally?”

“Sometimes, if I like,” Dan said.

“ _At four in the morning,_ ” Phil murmured. Dan rolled his eyes and Monica laughed her hearty laugh. She filled her white-washed flat with life and their entire conversation seemed to thrive in colour. They resumed into silence, but at least the silence felt bearable. Dan and Phil exchanged glances as Monica looked down at her phone for a second (the thing was always going off, Monica had commented a thousand times remorsefully) – Dan was still sad, of course, how can he not be? But he felt a whole lot better knowing that Phil was going to be in better, more capable hands than Dan could ever even hope to provide.

***

Monica rushed off as a client crisis occurred, bounding up the stairs. When she was in her element, she was lightning. Dan could tell that from the way she was fiddling and moving at the dinner table, she wasn’t the type to stay still. Phil would never be bored with her, Dan thought, smiling to himself.

“Unfortunately, I have to abandon you boys,” Monica had said as she picked up her phone while dropping her plate in the sink and running up the stairs to her office. That left Dan and Phil in a sudden silence. Dan pushed his plate away and got up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Phil, but I gotta go,” Dan said, making his way to the door.

“No, you don’t,” Phil said, standing. Dan looked back.

“This is so awkward for me,” Dan whispered.

“And it wasn’t for me? Or for Monica?” Phil reasoned. Dan sighed.

“You need your privacy, this is your new home.”

“You are always welcome, you’re my best friend,” Phil pleaded.  The silent conversation between them began.

_Stay._

_Why?_

_I want you to._

_You don’t need me._

“ _Kill Bill’s_ on tonight,” Phil said timidly. Dan glanced at the clock – ten o’clock. The movie was probably halfway through already. He wanted to leave, he wanted to recluse back under the cave of his blankets, on the other side of London, a world away from Phil and his newfound happiness. He didn’t want to be anywhere near here. But he couldn’t leave Phil – and Phil couldn’t leave Dan.

They stood in an invisible tug-of-war, not wanting to fight but not wanting to lose or let go. This was so goddamn strange – Dan wanted Phil. He couldn’t even hate on the barrier between them because Monica was nice, charming and, technically, wasn’t a barrier at all. The barrier was the silence between two lanky men who were acting like they were meeting for the first time on a Manchester train station. They had thought they had all the time in the world – but now the clock was ticking.

“Fine,” Dan said. “Just once.”

***

They lay in the glow of Quentin Tarantino’s idiosyncrasies on TV. The movie had barely begun with _Bang Bang_ resonating throughout the living room. They had turned the movie down low as they knew Monica was frantically pacing upstairs for one client or another.

There was a seat between them both and they watched the movie. Dan put his hands between his legs in the quiet terror that he might accidently graze Phil’s leg or his shoulder that’ll send him crumbling downwards. He didn’t look at Phil; he ignored him completely.

As the movie progressed, Dan grew sleepier and sleepier and ended up resting on Phil’s shoulder, leaning against him with his back. It felt like old times, just two guys sitting and watching TV. Dan didn’t have the inhibition of awkwardness from touching Phil as he was too drowsy to care and Phil couldn’t care less. He toyed with Dan’s curls and rested his chin on Dan’s head. Dan’s could feel Phil’s heartbeat against his shoulder whilst he watched Uma Thurman’s fight scenes under hooded eyes.

He grabbed Phil’s hands and put them on his chest, snuggling into Phil like his own giant bear. Phil exhaled and Dan could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against him. Phil’s hands rested on the skin of his chest, the heel of his palms on his collarbones. This felt too normal, it felt too good to be true. He knew this would be a hazy memory in the morning but it was innocent in itself at the moment.

Phil let Dan’s head rest on his lap as the dialogue slurred and he couldn’t tell Lucy Liu from a cherry blossom – he was exhausted.

“Phil?” Dan said quietly up at his best friend.

“Mm?” Phil replied, yawning wide and fighting to keep his own eyes open. Dan traced his finger along Phil’s cheek lazily.

“I’m going to miss you so much in the morning,” Dan said, giggling slightly, for no reason other than sheer exhaustion. Emotional? Mental? Physical? Who knew?

Phil looked down at him and smiled. Dan slowly wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, drawing him closer to himself. Phil’s hand curled under Dan’s head as he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, his other hand around his torso.

“I’m going to miss you so much also,” Phil said. But he didn’t realize that Dan was already asleep when he added “ _Te querré para siempre, Dan._ ”


	5. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has something to ask Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to Sam Smith's 'Stay with Me' on repeat for this chapter and you totally should to, for the full effect. :D

When Dan stirred awake, he sat up quickly and realized he wasn’t at home. He hit himself on the forehead – had he fallen asleep at Monica’s place? He groaned – why the hell was he still here? It was going to be a slice of pizza then he would’ve made his way home and everything would’ve been alright. But, _no_. _Of course_ , he had to fuck up. _Of course_ , he had to be near Phil.

What did he do last night anyway? He looked down – somebody had covered him in an afghan and he lay on a white couch in front of the TV. _Oh,_ he recalled now. He was watching _Kill Bill_ , wasn’t he? He didn’t remember anything else, nothing between sitting to watch the beginning of the film and waking up now. Oh, well. He pushed the blanket off and swung his legs around the side of the couch, standing to find his socks, discarded in the afghan. He put them on as he heard thudding behind him. It was Monica coming down the stairs.

Her hair was a mess and she was tying her robe. She yawned and, when she saw Dan, she beamed.

“ _Buenos días_ , Daniel!” she said. “Cómo estás? ¿Dormiste bien?”  

“I’m sorry?” Dan asked. Monica laughed as she poured herself a cup of coffee.  

“Did you sleep well? Phil said you slept like _un bebé_ ,” Monica commented, slurping. She pushed her hair back into a ponytail before making another cup of coffee and made her way next to Dan. She passed the cup over to Dan, who thanked her as he stared at his reflection of the TV screen, trying to scrape his hair back into a respectable fringe but it was completely wrecked – it was back into its curly disgrace and unkempt unruliness. He leaned back into the couch with a yawn as Monica sat down. Dan could see the bags under her eyes and an inky smudge on her nose. She slurped loudly on her coffee and he could see the moustache forming on her upper lip from the drink. She looked up and asked, “What?” 

Dan had to laugh as he pointed to his own upper lip. Monica dabbed on the coffee-moustache and wiped it away with the back of her hand. She laughed, a blush creeping onto her skin.  

“ _Dios mío_ , so embarrassing,” Monica said.  He slurped on his drink as they sat in silence.  

The birds chirped outside and it was a beautiful day. Dan could blissfully say that he was much happier than yesterday. The world kept turning and he had to adapt.  

“Morning,” Phil said, his hair in that quiff of his that comes after a night well spent. He looked at Monica and Dan and smiled. “How’re you?”  

“Alright,” Dan replied.

Phil shuffled toward them. Quintessential Phil – he wore his glasses and a hoodie, his Cookie Monster pyjama bottoms and wore some random assortment of socks. He sat on the right side of Monica, who both looked at each other, exchanging a glance before looking up at Dan. Dan quietly finished his coffee and placed it on the table in front of him. He turned to face them, to tell them it was finally time for him to leave – but then he saw their faces, anxiously waiting for him. 

_Panic_ was his first reaction.  

“What…?” Dan asked, feeling uncomfortable. Monica glanced over at Phil before continuing, in that heavy accent, “Daniel, we have a request…”  

“Only if you want to, Dan,” Phil added. “Totally up to you.” 

“ _Si,_ we just wanted to ask…”

Seeing Monica so lost for words was surprising and, frankly, unnerving. Usually, it was Dan and Phil who were ill-composed for conversation.  

Monica took Phil’s hands in her own as she couldn’t find the words to say. “I can’t ask him, I haven’t known him for long enough. Phil, you do it.”  

Phil looked away from Monica and up at Dan’s confused expression. Phil sighed. 

“Dan,” Phil said. 

“Phil…?” 

“Monica and I, we, um – we’ve fixed the wedding date for, uh, next month.” 

Dan blinked. So soon? Now there was a deadline for his stupid heart to get itself together.  

“And, we’d really appreciate it if you…” Phil drifted off. He took a big breath and said, “Can you be my best man?”

Monica looked eagerly up at Dan’s stunned face. His thoughts ceased, his breath stopped and all he could register was the request, echoing in his head. _Best man. Best man. Best man._  

He gulped and stuttered. “Um-um-um, y-yeah, I- I, uh, I don’t see why not. Y-yes, I will, Phil, um – ” 

Monica shrieked and jumped on Dan, hugging him as she burst into tears.  

“ _Gracias, gracias, gracias, Daniel, muchos gracias!_ ” Monica said. She started talking in Spanish as she hugged Dan in her tight grip. Everything was fading out from in front of him and he couldn’t hear anything. He just looked at Phil’s face, as if he had just been shot through the heart. Phil stared back. Dan gulped and offered his hand to him and Phil took it, their hands linked as Monica hugged Dan in a skin-tight grasp.  

 _Thank you_ , Phil mimed to Dan, giving a weak smile. Dan couldn’t return the sentiments – he closed his eyes and screwed them shut, trying to settle the thuds in his aching chest.  

 _You lost, you lost, you lost_ – his thoughts beat in rhythm to his heart. _He’s gone, not yours._   


	6. Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of an era.

_It might be a good thing for them to part ways._

He looked up from the kitchen sink at the window above, staring at his reflection. Dan couldn’t believe that he was thinking this. He sighed as he scrubbed the dishes absentmindedly, keeping his mind numb and quiet.

Although it might pain Dan for Phil to leave him, Dan valued his best friend’s happiness above all else. And said best friend wanted Dan to be his best man, which means he had to write a speech. Would it be like writing a video script? Only with a live audience and more of a pressure to be perfect – he needed to be at his peak for Phil, the best he could possibly be and keep it all together for a couple of minutes.

Dan could never believe Phil was finally departing from his side but he needed to accept it. He needed to. There was no other excuse, no other way for him to face the problem but to go for it headfirst.

He looked up at the clock – almost twelve in the afternoon. He dropped his dishes and grabbed his jacket, making his way to the front door. He had a wedding to help plan. He couldn’t have Monica and Phil making everything asymmetrical for each other, could he?

He shut the door behind him, swallowing his pride and hurrying to catch the train.

***

Dan arrived to the chaos that was Monica’s critical eye to detail. Monica and Dan were so similar in some respects that it both flattered and frightened Dan. He walked into the living room to a pile of paint chips, classical music playing in the background and two different laptops open to dresses and venues. Monica sat in the middle of the mess; Phil was nowhere to be seen.

Monica was chewing at the end of her pencil, muttering to herself. Dan cautiously knocked on a wall and Monica looked up, forehead creased. She practically jumped up at the sight of Dan, babbling in Spanish. She put his arm around him so tightly that he couldn’t physically move. Somehow, he wiggled out her grasp and Dan grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Monica, I have no idea what you are saying,” Dan said. “I don’t understand Spanish, remember?”

Dan cracked a smile to calm Monica down. He, himself, felt suddenly very stressed – there was so much to think about. Cakes, dresses, flowers, colour schemes, guest lists, venues and _where the bloody hell was Phil?_

“ _Dios mío_ , Daniel,” Monica said, quietly. “I just want this all to be perfect for Phil! For both of us…”

She started to cry softly and Dan pulled her into a hug, as that was the best thing to do, apparently. It felt natural to hug Monica and he felt they could almost be friends, bonding over their mutual love for Phil. His love would obviously be a little bit more private, he thought.

_Shut up, Dan. This isn’t about you._

He looked down at Monica, pushing her away from him to let her wipe her face.

“Monica, it _will_ be absolutely perfect,” he said gently. “You are always perfect so calm down.”

She took a big breath and shuddered to a stop in her sobbing. Monica looked at Dan and nodded, a little more composed than before. Dan smiled and asked, “Where’s Phil? He should be helping you.”

“He’s a bit busy with his work,” Monica sighed.

“He’s got a wedding to plan!” Dan said exasperatedly. What the hell was Phil thinking, leaving his fiancé by herself? Work, his ass. He’s got his entire life to do his damn work, at least he could sit and plan a wedding first! Dan couldn’t believe Phil – this wasn’t like him.

“I know, but it’s okay, really,” Monica said, shrugging. She went back to her laptops, jumping from one aspect of her big day to another. Dan folded his arms and watched the havoc for a second before shaking his head.

“Where is he right now?” Dan said, raising an eyebrow. Monica pointed upstairs before picking up her phone for a client. Dan turned and bounded up the stairs, anger filling him. Phil can abandon Dan but he will _not_ abandon Monica. He can abandon one of them but not both – Monica doesn’t deserve that kind of selfishness.

Dan stormed through the hallway and opened the closed bedroom door. He barged into the room and screamed, “What the hell, Phil?”

Phil stopped midsentence. He was wearing his antler hat and a hoodie. The camera was up and a red light blinked at them both.

“Dan, you’re here?” Phil questioned.

“Yes, I am, because _somebody’s_ fiancé asked me to help them plan a wedding,” Dan said, more calmly than he felt. He closed the door behind them and stepped into the room. It was just as immaculate as the rest of the house.

“Well, I’m filming a video at the moment so can you –?”

“Leave?” Dan stated coldly. A silence settled between them both. Phil sighed and stood up, turning off the camera. He took his hat off and set it on the bed. He straightened his hair with one hand, sheepishly looking away from Dan.

Phil sighed, watching Dan who stared back with an icy gaze. “Monica is handling it fine and I have a lot of work to do.”

“Monica is panicking,” Dan said, “which you would know if you were down there actually helping her instead of pretending your channel is more important than your relationship.”

“So now you’re giving relationship advice, are you?”

“I think it’s a little weird that I know more about what’s happening with Monica than you, Phil.”

“Monica is fine, she doesn’t need me,” Phil said, turning his back on Dan to face his laptop.

Dan stormed up to Phil and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, sending him backwards on his desk.

“You chose to marry this woman,” Dan said, pointing dangerously close to Phil’s face. “So if you’re going to be committed to whatever the fuck you have promised to her, I suggest you stop pretending and go downstairs –”

“We’re fine without you, Dan,” Phil shouted back, stepping forward into Dan’s personal space. “We don’t need you, why are _you_ here helping _my_ fiancé? Shouldn’t you be having an existential crisis somewhere in your _own_ flat?”

Dan stood, shocked. He stared at Phil. He took a few steps back, blinking to fight back the tears that were close to pouring out. He looked up, trying to cover his tears with anger.

“So, that’s how it is, is it?” Dan said finally. Phil nodded. His jaw was locked and his forehead furrowed.

“We’re just friends, Dan,” Phil said. “I just wanted you to be friends with Monica, not _live_ here.”

Dan swallowed his pain and looked down at his feet.

“So, what’re you going to do?” Dan muttered. “You’re going to pretend you’re busy with work instead of face the problem - "

“We don’t have a problem.”

Dan scoffed. “Yes. We do. And, guess what, _I’m_ facing it. And _you’re_ hiding,”

“The only problem there is…” Phil said before trailing off, stopping himself. Dan folded his arms over his chest and probed Phil.

“What’s the problem, _Phil_?”

“You, Dan!” Phil exclaimed, infuriatedly. “You’re the only problem in this whole thing. If you weren’t here, I would be fine. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be having a- a –”

“A sexuality crisis?” Dan scoffed. Phil glared at his best friend and turned away, sitting at the desk. He refused to look Dan in the eye. He was not angry at Dan at all – he just couldn’t figure out what the _hell_ he wanted. And it was driving him insane.

“Are you fucking twelve, Phil?” Dan mocked him. “Get your shit together, you’re getting married for fuck’s sake, at least –”

“Dan,” Phil said, dangerously quiet, dangerously firm. He turned in his chair to glower at Dan. It stopped Dan in his thoughts as he stared down at Phil. He took a step away from his friend – it was eerie that Phil wasn’t saying anything. He wanted Phil to shout, to scream at him, to grab his wrists and make him feel _something_ – but he wasn’t saying anything. He was silent. He was rocked shut as a seashell. At least you could have heard the ocean through a Conch shell – you could have heard a pin drop in the vacuum between them.

“Get out of my bedroom,” Phil hissed. He turned himself to face the computer and that was it. Dan just stared at the back of Phil’s head – but he accepted the barrier Phil was trying to create between them.

It was the end of an era. The bridge between them was crumbling.

***

Dan helped organize the entire wedding, from the flowers to the venue, from the colour of the bridesmaid’s dresses to lugging Monica’s manila folders around as she tried to simultaneously juggle both work and her wedding. Dan grew increasingly more and more in awe of what a superwoman Monica was and was envious of her levelheadedness and charisma that hid stress and anxiety behind it. She was powering through it all – Dan should at least _try_ and keep afloat.

In the night, when there was no one else, he could feel his chest tightening and he couldn’t breathe – and he didn’t tell anyone. He was inside a bottle and he was about to explode. He just needed to keep his chin up.

Phil grew distant and became crazily devoted to his YouTube channel, tweeting fans, posting more and more videos about his life and other random anecdotes that came to his mind. He immersed himself in his radio station, secret projects and other hobbies that seemed to ‘occupy his time’. He was here and there for the plans of the wedding, to offer an opinion or just nod or shake his head – but Phil and Dan were never in the same room when this did happen. _I_ _f_ it did.

Things were falling apart between them. Dan didn’t have the strength to patch it up and, frankly, he wanted to let it go. Not because he hated Phil because, by God, how could he put off the best thing that ever happened to him?

He wanted to let it go for his own sake because, if he clung to hope, if there was a miracle that was about to happen – he knew he would've held on to that sinking ship for dear life. He didn’t want to drown. He wanted to stay afloat. He wanted to watch Phil ride off into the sunset, happy as happy can be. He wanted that. More than he wanted his own happiness.

Phil had provided him with the most amount of happiness that any human being could’ve ever had the pleasure to have had, and this was obvious – the way Dan looked at him, the way lingering touches lasted a lifetime, the way his pulse quickened, it was all Phil. It was all Phil’s fault.

Now that it was ending – and Dan had anticipated this ever since he met Phil – it was like he had hit a moving train. He knew that it was coming and, still, the impact left him winded. How could he have let himself succumb to his emotions when he had carefully locked them away all this time, on screen and in real life?

He walked through the city after helping Monica with the final touches to the catering for the wedding. He walked through the streets with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his feet. Dan thought about taking the train but then he abandoned the idea for now – he wanted to breathe easy for a while.

He hustled and bustled through a crowd of strangers, pushing his way through. Dan found himself in a bubble tea store on a drizzly afternoon, when the weak sunlight was filtering through dark clouds. There was a faint rainbow in the sky. Regardless of his emotions, it was a peaceful atmosphere. On the surface, he can pretend he was at harmony with himself.

Dan sighed as he clutched his drink. So, he knew. Dan finally figured out what Phil’s problem was, and it wasn’t him.

Phil was having a goddamn sexuality crisis, and what perfect timing too! _Well,_ Dan thought, _he couldn’t say anything to that._ He should have said something earlier, before Monica. He should have made the move so that Phil could have at least _thought_ about having a future with Dan, the one that he thought about having with Monica. They could’ve had a white picketfence cottage together beside the ocean, or wherever the fuck, really. They could’ve lived in a slum, for all Dan cared. As long as he could rejoice in the fact that they found happiness together, he was fine.

It doesn’t matter if Phil is having a crisis anyway. It doesn’t matter if either of them were closet cases. Nothing is going to change. Life shall do what it does best and go on. The universe has no obligation to stop for him and play matchmaker for his peculiar situation.

Dan finished his drink and made his way home. He was beginning to accept the situation, he felt. He just needed to tame the brags of his heart.

***

As soon as Dan arrived home, his phone rung.

“Dan?” a woman’s voice said. It was Monica.

“Hey, Monica, do you need any help or anything?” Dan asked, taking his jacket off and kicking his shoes off.

“No, no, it’s just…” Monica said, sighing into the phone. After a skip of a beat, Monica said, “I need to talk about Phil.”

“Is he okay? Does he need me?” Dan said. Then he remembered Phil’s voice in his head – _We don’t need you. Shouldn’t you be having an existential crisis somewhere in your_ own _flat?_ He knew in his head that Phil didn’t mean those words, he was just in a state of indecision. That doesn’t mean that it didn’t cut Dan deep. How could Phil even think of saying all that –?

_Focus, Dan._

Monica groaned on the other side of the call. “I don’t know, honestly. He’s shut away from me and he doesn’t even talk anymore. He’s snappy and it’s really sad to watch. Do you think he’s getting cold feet?”

“What?! No way, he loves you,” Dan said truthfully.

“I don’t know, Dan –”

“Monica,” Dan stated forcefully. “Don’t doubt Phil’s love for a second. He loves you, he’s crazy about you. He’s just busy, that’s all.”

Monica sighed. “Be that as it may, I need to ask you for two things.”

“Oh. Okay…?”

“One. Have you started on the best man speech yet?”

“ _Speech?!_ ” Dan exclaimed. That had completely slipped his head in between own confusion. God, he was so selfish.

“Yeah, Dan, it’s traditional.”

“No, I haven’t started. I’ll start soon,” he said, nodding to himself, glancing at his laptop.

“Alright. Now, two.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to plan a stag night.”

Dan didn’t answer that. His eyes grew wide as he stared off into space, his hand limp around his phone. He swallowed.

“St-stag night?”

“Yes.”

“How? How do I plan a stag night?”

“You did such a good job for the wedding, I’m sure you’ll come up with something –”

“Monica, I don’t know. I can’t do it.”

“You’re his best friend.”

Dan didn’t believe that anymore. What was he to Phil anyway? Ex-flat mate. Ex-friend. Colleague. Almost lover? There were too many boundaries that Phil crossed for him to be one thing only.

“C’mon, Dan. For Phil?”

He heard Monica hold her breath on the other end. Dan held the bridge of his nose and leaned on the dining table to compose himself.

“Fine,” he resigned. “I’ll do it.”

Monica squealed so loudly that he had to push his phone away for a second.

Monica left the conversation after briefly talking about her plans for a hen’s night, half of which was in Spanish. Dan had just agreed in the right places and Monica was delighted to pretend that Dan understood what she was saying. As soon as she left the call, he put his phone down face first and started to panic. He wasn’t made for this job. He wasn’t fit for being a best friend, let alone all of this! Best man? Speech writer? Stag night planner? In what universe could he satisfy Phil with these activities?

After debating the possibilities of a fuck-up, Dan reluctantly opened his laptop to a fresh Word document. He stared at it, wondering where to start. He sighed. Then, he began to type the story of Phil. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make sure you read the tags as the next chapters might be triggering.
> 
> Title based off The Neighbourhood's 'Sweater Weather' (which you guys should totally listen to tbh)


	7. Love Me Like You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stag nights are fun for friends.

Five PM. April twenty-third. On a cold evening with the harsh winds blowing hard against his windows, Dan walked down the stairs of his house. He wore a thin white shirt and slim black trousers, a jacket hanging from his arm and keys clanging in the other hand. This was Phil's stag night. This was his last night of freedom. Their last night together. Frankly, Dan's plans were loosely based around their first week together in Manchester, when they had first met face to face - he planned for there to be a lot of fond memories crawling back to Phil. He was going to make it excruciating for himself to part from Phil. If this was to be their last, he wanted it to be memorable. He wanted Phil's good opinion tonight. 

He met Phil at the front. It almost took his breath away to see Phil again and it felt so safe to be alone together, like he was the crackle of a fireplace on a snowy night. He swooned in his soul, sighing to himself at the sight of his friend, and felt unnaturally giddy to be with Phil, quietly thankful to Monica for setting this whole thing up. Dan doesn't remember much in life but he wanted to remember this. He was going to make this stick. 

Phil stood in his casual wear, all pastel and pretty. He looked up and blinked, biting his bottom lip as Dan approached him. Dan closed the door behind him, eyeing Phil as he did, his jaw dropping open slightly. Phil's eyes were the color of his clothes, mint green and grey. He wore his galaxy hoodie and the white streetlights made him look paler than he actually was. He wore faded black jeans and sneakers - it felt so familiar. They could be going to the radio for all they knew. Thinking about how much he had missed this, Dan realized how long it had been since he had last seen Phil properly and it scared him that, even if you know someone inside out, they could become a stranger as easily as the crack of lightning. He regretted letting it pass by him. He won't let this night do that. 

Phil’s eyes traveled down Dan’s body and he looked back up. He smiled warmly as Dan stood in front of him. Dan felt like an ecstatic fool, a lovesick puppy - he was being noticed again. He bit his lip to stop himself from speaking, letting Phil make the first move. 

“Hi,” Phil muttered, looking down and kicking a stone away from his feet.

“Hey,” Dan replied. He did the same. Just because this was normal didn't mean that unspoken words hung precariously between them, thickly as elephants in the room. 

“So…” Phil said. His eyes traveled back up to Dan's face again. “What is there planned for tonight?”

“I want to get pissed as hell,” Dan said. He couldn't help himself as he glided one step closer to Phil. Dan was always going to be in perihelion to Phil's charm like a planet to the sun. Did he care right now? Fuck no. He just wanted to be near him. 

Phil smirked. “I think that’s the traditional order of things.” Dan nodded and pointed to his left, allowing Phil to follow him. They walked side by side, ambling slowly down the pathway. Dan avoided Phil’s eye and tried to block out his thoughts with his senses – the cool air, the hurtling cars, the muted thuds of their footsteps on the asphalt. His heart. The juddering of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't help himself - he stole a glance at Phil and looked away quickly. _Phil really looked nice tonight._

 _Fucking focus, Dan, you idiot._  

“Dan,” Phil said. Dan looked over at Phil.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you,” he sighed. Dan waited for Phil to continue for a heartbeat.

“You’re right, I am confused and I didn’t want to think about it at all so I just shut everything else out except for work. Y’know?”

Dan nodded in understanding. “You can say that to me but _Monica_ thinks you’re upset with _her_.”

Phil groaned. Dan pursed his lips and looked away, making their way to the train.

“It’ll be alright, Phil,” he said. “It’ll all be okay, no matter what you do. You always know what to do.”

***

Okay. So, they didn’t know how this happened. One minute, they were at some cheap bar – and the next? Why the _hell_ were in the Shadow Lounge at Soho?

They were drunk as fuck and Dan’s cheeks were flushed, his hair was spiked with sweat and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He downed another shot and smiled at Phil like an idiot, biting his bottom lip and moaning, swinging his hips to the rhythm in his head. He curled into Phil's touch, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. Phil sighed to himself, slapping himself in the forehead. He looked down at Dan.  _He's done it - he's drunk himself insane._

Phil was relaxed and slightly drowsy as he stood, leaning on the bar for support. Maybe they drank because it was stag night? Maybe they drank because they were still hurting, no matter how many positive, ‘band aid’ words they uttered to each other, and themselves? The fog of where they stood still clouded any vision they had of any boundaries between them. Where were the lines? Where did they end? Did he care right now? Fuck no.

Suddenly, Dan jumped away from him and started to dance. His buttons had come undone from his shirt and it displayed the smooth skin underneath - _extremely bruisable,_ Phil thought for a second. Dan had lost his inhibitions and was dancing like a superlative two-penny whore. Phil just looked on as the bartender slid him his umpteenth shot. It was hot, watching Dan in his paper thin white shirt moving his hips – the guys who were downing drinks around him seemed to think that as well. They watched Dan like falcons, hungry for the flight to scoop Dan away. Phil slowly slipped in next to Dan and wrapped his arm around Dan’s waist. He gripped Dan and pulled him close.

“You best watch out, bear,” Phil shouted, slurred over the music. He nodded towards the group of men not far from them. Dan grabbed on to Phil’s shoulder and leaned in next to Phil’s ear, his breath hot with the smell of liquor. As a reflex, almost, Phil pulled Dan closer to him. He felt like a Barbie doll – he was so intoxicated, Phil could have picked him up, swung him over his shoulder and took him home, away from the creeps.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Dan hissed in Phil’s ear. He pulled away slowly, eyeing Phil darkly as he danced and started singing slurred lyrics of _It’s Raining Men._

"I always get to tell you what to do," Phil whispered back, his breath against Dan's neck.

"Protect me, then," Dan scoffed. He leaned away and cocked his eyebrow at Phil.  _A dare, huh?_ Phil smirked back at Dan. 

Dan was moving himself to the dance floor, his drink in one hand, sloshing about, and other free hand in the air as he danced, his legs finely outlined by his trousers. He made a motion with his finger and one of the men in the crowd walked forward toward him. Dan winked at Phil before shooting back the drink into his mouth and putting it on a table somewhere. He then grabbed the man by the collar and danced like he was in the privacy of a strip club. He kept his eyes on Phil as he danced against the man as if the eyes of the entire club of homosexuals weren't on him. Phil kept a level head, trying to pass it off as coolness. Dan just smirked and moved faster, leaned in closer, moaned louder against the man. 

Dan grabbed the man’s shoulders and slid downwards, dragging his hands down the man’s torso. Phil had anger rising in him. He drunk a shot and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stormed towards Dan on the dancefloor. He grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him towards himself, face to face, torso to torso. Dan smirked, his pupils blown wide.

"Took you a while," Dan said to Phil. He leaned onto Phil, pushing one of his legs in between Phil’s. He wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders and starting singing softly, his fingers curling into Phil’s hair.

“ _Damn, I wish I was your lover_ ,” Dan warbled quietly. “ _I’d rock you ‘til the daylight comes, make sure you are smiling and warm…_ ”

Dan’s voice drifted off as he stared into Phil’s eyes. Phil looked at Dan, cupping his face in his hands as they danced in the pink and blue and purple lights of the club. The world was their's. They had all the time in the world. 

Dan blinked slowly, his eyes soft and his eyelashes wet. Phil smiled, combing his fingers through Dan’s hair, curling in the humidity of the club. 

How long could they do this? Drag each other in, push each other apart, test each other’s limits? Dan couldn’t handle the fact that Phil would be gone tomorrow. He didn’t want this moment to end, as they stared into each other’s eyes, limbs tangled up and drunk as hell. Dan looked so small again, like the first time they met – Phil caged him in a hug and he put his lips against Dan’s neck, as the music faded into _You’re the fear, I don’t care, Cause I’ve never been so high…_

He couldn’t take the pain of departure. He broke away from Dan and stared at him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he slurred against Dan’s lips. Dan shuddered against him and touched Phil’s lips with his fingers. Phil grabbed onto Dan’s hand and dragged him through the crowd. He dragged them outside into the cold and quiet night, the rush of the moment thrilling Dan like nothing before. Phil hailed a cab, still hand and hand with Dan, who had wrapped himself around his arm, a blissful smile on his face.

They stumbled into the cab and Phil slurred some destination that Dan didn't register. All that was on his mind was Phil's arms coming around him. Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s shoulders and placed a kiss on Dan’s forehead. They rested against each other as the lights blurred outside the cab window.

***

Phil drags a drowsy Dan out of the cab as he makes his way for the free carriage on the London Eye. Dan knew how this was all coming back to Phil - he was reminiscing Manchester. Their teenage drive to fill their emotional deprivation, their almost pathetic attempt to know everything about each other in one night, their ride on the Manchester eye. Dan had been so acutely aware of the beauty of the universe that week and he knew Phil was the reason his universe had any sort of color in it. He sighed as he watched his Phil lead him onto the ride. They climbed into a carriage and rest against each other.

As the ride started, they noticed they were still holding hands and they gripped each other tighter. Dan looked at his Phil, who was watching London go by underneath him. London, the wide expanse of land they drag each other along each day, from project A to project B, from this destination to the next. Dan wished he could've appreciated Phil even more than he had in between the mad rush of the city. Was that even possible? He looked at Phil, _his_ Phil, beautiful Phil and he started to cry, thinking about how, in a couple of hours, this man of his will be married. All his regrets were piling up and they were three capitalized words. 

 _You pathetic punk ass_ , Dan said.  _Finder's keepers. Losers like you get to cry._

Phil heard Dan’s sobs and looked over. A horrified expression spread over his face. 

“Dan, oh my god, what happened? Are you hurt?” Phil said, checking Dan’s face for answers. He lifted Dan's face by his chin, searching Dan's eyes. Dan gripped Phil’s hands in his own and looked at Phil. They were squished against each other in the corner of the carriage and Phil leaned backwards as Dan leaned against him.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Dan said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dan,” Phil shuddered as he leaned into Dan, placing a kiss against his lips. Dan held the sides of Phil’s face and pressed harder against Phil. Phil grabbed Dan’s hips and pulled him closer. Dan clambered onto Phil’s lap as Phil started to kiss Dan’s neck, moaning against him, grabbing at his hips and sucking at his neck to cause the bruises he had fantasized about. Phil’s heart thudded loudly against his chest and he swore that Dan could hear it too as Dan's fingertips felt Phil's chest. Dan’s own heart thudded like a wild stallion and he just wanted all of Phil, in all his entirety, in all his good and bad. Dan opened his mouth for Phil’s tongue and his hands traveled down Phil’s torso, against his chest, tracing the sides of his body. Phil pulled away and looked at Dan’s face, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. He picked Dan up and placed him on his back on the seat, the cold against Dan's back making him shudder. Phil leaned forward and kissed his way up from Dan’s stomach. Dan grasped for Phil’s shirt. Phil kissed Dan’s face, along his jawline, along his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and he made sure to pay extra attention to his lips.

They didn’t notice that the ride had stopped until somebody knocked on their glass door and signaled to get out. They quickly sat up and made themselves look presentable. Phil messily kissed Dan’s face one more time before grabbing his hand and stumbling out of the London eye and making their way home.

***

 _Home_. It was Dan’s flat. Even in his drunken state, Phil considered this to be home.

Dan fumbled with his keys, muttering to himself as he tried to figure out which key to use to enter their flat.

“I swear to god, Dan, if you don’t find the key soon, I’ll have to fuck you right here,” Phil hissed against Dan’s neck, grabbing Dan's arms tight. It sent shivers down Dan’s spine. He felt heat against his him as Phil's hand rested at the base of his back. It took all his effort not to just turn around and pull Phil against him and ask him to fuck him hard. His crude thoughts would disgust him in the morning but it was the only thing on his mind right now. Thankfully, he found the right key and they pushed their way inside, groping around in the darkness, for each other and the lights. The moonlight was the only thing that helped Dan see Phil’s face and he kissed him deeply, curling into Phil’s grasp.

Phil pushed Dan onto his back on the floor and put his hands on either side of Dan’s head, panting as he looked down at Dan.

"You're gorgeous, you idiot," Phil panted, scraping away Dan's fringe to kiss his forehead. Dan grabbed for his collar and reached up to meet his lips, moaning into his mouth. Phil put his hands underneath Dan’s head as he lowered him to the ground. Dan's little whimpers made Phil deepen the kiss as he lowered himself to be closer to Dan. Dan put his legs around Phil’s waist and flipped them over so that he was on top, making Phil gasp in surprise. He straddled Phil, smiling down at him, rocking against Phil with his hips. Phil put his hands underneath his head, staring up at Dan. He giggled as he watched Dan’s curls bounce on top of his head and as Dan’s hands traveled along Phil’s torso. He was so stupidly elated, staring down at Phil, who was smiling as crazy as Dan felt. Suddenly, one name flashed across his head. 

_Monica._

Dan slowly stopped as his smile fell. Phil sat up on his elbows and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this, Phil,” he answered, climbing off of him to lay beside Phil. He curled into himself and felt his heart slow down and his mind start spinning around. The waves of lust passed through him and he looked up at Phil, who looked glum once again. They couldn't do this, even if they wanted to. And they sure as hell wanted to. But Dan could never do that to Monica and a couple of shots were no excuse. 

Phil didn’t reply to that. He just wrapped his arm around Dan’s waist and pulled him close. Dan turned over and faced the other way - he just couldn't look at Phil and accept what was happening to him, to them. He felt Phil move closer to him and Phil’s body outlined his own on the floor, his nose nuzzling into Dan's neck. Dan passed out on the floor in Phil’s grasp. Phil played with Dan’s curls as he, too, drifted off into sleep, his arm wrapped protectively around his Dan. Maybe they'll remember this in the morning. But they probably won't. The mind was faulty in the memories it allowed you to keep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based off Ellie Goulding's 'Love Me Like You Do'  
> Songs also featured: 'It's Raining Men' by Geri Halliwell and 'Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover' by Sophie B. Hawkins  
> (crocs can't write make out scenes, lol)  
> (and crocs also knows nothing about alcohol)


	8. How Long Will I Love You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till death do us part.

Dan woke up to the sound of twittering birds. There were several kinks in his necks from lying on the floor and his back hurt. _They couldn’t have chosen a nicer place to sleep, right?_

A heavy arm was draped over his stomach. He turned over and propped up his arm, resting his head on his hand as he looked down at Phil. Phil snored lightly and had his mouth wide open. Dan swept away a strand of hair from Phil’s eye and savoured the vision that was his friend – he was beautiful. The sunlight made him look hypnotic as a piece of art.

Dan sighed as he debated whether or not he should wake Phil up. Could he keep Phil to himself for a while? He didn’t think so – after all, it was Phil’s wedding day. He then decided on the former option.

“Hey,” he said softly, shaking Phil’s shoulder slightly. Phil had always been a heavy sleeper – his limbs would confine whoever he spooned because he was so heavy when he slept. It was almost impossible to push Phil away (and he didn’t want to either). Dan had to work hard to become at least mobile under Phil’s arm as he shifted closer to Phil.

“Wakey wakey, Philip Lester,” Dan said, chuckling as Phil stirred. Phil turned over onto his back and yawned loudly, smacking his lips as he rubbed his eyes awake. Phil was so childlike when he was asleep. Dan laughed as he watched Phil wake. Phil turned his head and stared at Dan, smiling.

“Good morning,” he said drowsily. Before Dan could speak, his phone rung. He looked for his phone and found it buzzing on the carpet underneath the coffee table. _How the hell did it get under there?_ He slid it out from underneath the table and picked it up.

“Dan, is Phil with you?” Monica said. Her voice sounded panicky. “I’m over at a friend’s. Is Phil okay?”

Dan looked over at Phil, who had closed his eyes with a goofy grin on his face. He had to suppress a giggle. “He’s fine.”

“Alright, well, _best man_ ,” Monica said, slandering his title good-humouredly. “Get my husband-to-be ready. It’s show time.” Before he could reply, she cut the line. Dan shrugged at his phone then put it on the table. He rubbed his head – _God_ , he had drunk way too much. What was he thinking? Ah, yes, _he wanted to get pissed as hell._ He definitely got what he wanted.

“You too, huh?” Phil said, sitting up. He flicked his hair out of his face, looking at Dan.

“I’ve got a damn hangover,” Dan groaned. “Right on your special day.”

“Well, you should have seen yourself last night,” Phil said, smirking.

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t exactly… _decent_ , if you know what I mean,” Phil winked. Dan punched Phil’s shoulder playfully, before getting up and pulling Phil up by his hands. He smiled at Phil and held his hands in his for a minute before letting go. He looked away, staring into the mirror, looking at their reflections – they looked unkempt and absolutely filthy. What a stag night he had planned for them – they had ended up almost fucking. Dan sighed.

“You have to go home, Phil,” he said. “You’re getting married.” He played with his wrist. He could see the red marks where Phil had gripped him last night.

“So,” Phil said, a gloomy finality to his tone. “This is it.”

Dan nodded, staring at Phil in the mirror. Phil turned to look at Dan. He grabbed the back of Dan’s neck and pulled him to himself, kissing him deeply before letting go. He moved Dan’s fringe away as he stared into his eyes.

“I will always love you,” Phil said truthfully. Dan didn’t say anything, didn’t nod. All he demanded was “Go, Phil” and Phil was gone.

***

_He should go. He shouldn’t go. He should go. He shouldn’t go._

He stared at himself in the mirror. He had taken a shower and it was already twelve – the wedding had already started. He was already late.

Dan had been ready for two hours, just playing ping-pong in his head. He could feel the piece of paper in his pocket – his best man speech. His parting words to his friend. Could he bear to say them to Phil? He didn’t think he had the nerve.

He didn’t straighten his hair today – he knew Phil liked his hair curly. Dan wore a tie, vest, shirt and suit – he did it all and felt decidedly out of place with himself. He sighed, insecure about how different he looked. Would Phil like this?

Should he even turn up at all?

Dan looked at himself in the mirror and read his best man speech over once more. Glancing over his words, his thoughts on a page, made him feel so exposed. He was laying himself out bare for an entire audience, including Monica – and Phil.

Dan looked up from his speech. He finally decided – he had to be there. He needed to see Phil one last time. He needed to see Phil happy before he wasn’t Dan’s anymore. He sighed.

“This is it, Dan,” he told himself. He nodded and sighed. Then he ran out the door and down the stairs. People stared at him – he definitely looked out of place. He hailed a cab and needed the cab driver to step on the peddle.

“Trinity Buoy Wharf, please,” Dan almost shouted. He felt the paper in his pocket like a red, hot coal of words in his pocket. All the unspoken words were going to be pouring out tonight. It was his final remark before his exit in Phil’s life.

***

The traffic, of all fucking days, decided to be terrible today. When they finally did arrive, after a forty-five minute ride of silent apprehension and further debate from thought to thought, his overwhelming desire to see Phil allowed his thoughts to coalesce into a hurricane in his chest, threatening to break free through his ribcage.

When they arrived, Dan almost threw his money at the cab driver and yelled over his shoulder, “Keep the change!” before heading for the sandy brick building that was the Chainstore. Dan knew he looked dishevelled but he didn’t care. He ran and he ran and he ran until he reached the venue. Before the door, he patted down his hair before pushing open the door quietly.

The place was wide and spacious and he kept running for the second door to the room. He couldn’t hear anything – he was definitely late. Through the rush, he didn’t notice the absolute magic of the venue.

He pushed open the next door to a place lit by fairy lights. A red carpet lead up to the altar and Dan’s eyes widened. Phil looked away from Monica to see Dan enter the room. Dan stood there for a split second – he was hit by how wonderful Phil looked. He was beautiful – he looked lean in his black suit, impeccable as a picture perfect groom. His fringe was pushed back and styled. Dan shook his head to snap out of his trance and noticed the surprise that filled Phil's face as he saw Dan.

Struck by Phil, he almost forgot that an entire hall of people had their disappointed eyes on him. He found himself a seat at the back of the crowd as the pastor coughed and began to speak again. Dan noticed how pretty Monica looked as well. She had a short dress on that stopped just before her ankles. It was strapless and her veil covered her tamed mane. A blue lace circled her waist. A necklace of pearls was around her neck and she couldn’t look cuter in her white ballet flats, beaming up at Phil. Phil, however, did not return the expression of happiness.

“Monica Del Olmo-Espinosa, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” the pastor said monotonously.

“I do,” Monica said, grinning. Dan smiled to himself – he really liked Monica. He really wished for all the happiness in the world for her.

The pastor then turned to Phil and Dan held his breath.

“Philip Michael Lester,” he began, “wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Monica looked at Phil in anticipation. The entire congregation held their breath as they looked at Phil. Dan could see Phil’s Adam apple bob up and down as he looked up, staring at the crowd. He locked eyes with Dan and his eyes softened, his mouth an ‘O’ shape. Dan bit his bottom lip, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He nodded at Phil in encouragement, hoping that Phil will do the right thing for himself. Dan wanted Phil to be happy. He grabbed on to the edge of the seat as he waited for Phil to reply.

“Phil?” Monica’s soft voice came like a ripple through the silence. Phil snapped his eyes back onto Monica. He eyed Monica then the pastor, who just cocked his eyebrow at Phil.

“Philip Michael Lester, wilt thou have this Woman?” the pastor repeated, indicating toward Monica. Phil looked down at his fiancé as her smile fell. Dan’s heart sunk as he saw Monica’s grin disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Phil uttered, he took a step toward Monica. He shook his head at Monica. “I can’t.”

“Wh- What?” Monica asked, reaching for Phil’s arm. Phil stepped back and repeated.

“I’m sorry,” he said louder. He shook his head at Monica and the pastor. “No, I – I won’t.”

“Why, Phil?” Monica said, audible enough for the audience. Dan sunk into his seat as the whispers in between the audience rose. Phil looked at Dan and Monica followed his gaze. When her eyes met his, she knew. She broke down into tears and disappeared into the bathroom. A woman who looked like her mother followed, a stream of Spanish insults being flung at Phil. Phil ignored her and strode down the centre of the congregation. Dan rose, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes followed Phil in anticipation. His breath escaped him as Phil grabbed his hand, taking him outside. He could hear the shouts from inside the venue.

As soon as they were outside, Phil grabbed both of Dan’s hands.

“I’m not confused anymore, Dan,” Phil rambled. “I know this is bad timing and I feel like crap for Monica but I can’t do that to her, or you. I really like her but I really want –”

Dan put a finger to Phil’s lips. He whispered, leaning close.

“Took you a while,” he said. Dan’s breath was caught between them as Phil held him and kissed him. Dan smiled against Phil’s lips. And it all felt so familiar.

***

Phil met Monica after the wedding was cancelled abruptly. He approached her. She was sitting on one of the seats in the front row, her legs spread and a beer in hand. Her makeup was smudged, Phil noticed as he came closer. Monica looked up at Phil and puckered her lips as she took a swig of beer. Phil sighed and leaned down.

“Hello, Monica,” he said, sadly.

“Hey, yourself,” Monica replied bitterly.

“You know I am so sorry to do this to you but if this happened while we were married, I could –”

“I know,” she sighed. Phil gave her a lopsided smile as she looked at her beer bottle.

“ _Dios mío,_ Phil, you chose a shit time,” she said, laughing slightly. “ _Mi madre y mi padre_ were not impressed.”

“I know and I am so sorry,” Phil said again. He truly meant his apology. “Monica, I really do like you –”

“But not as much as you love Dan,” Monica said, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “Am I right?”

Phil said nothing but he smiled at Monica. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Monica,” he said one last time.

“ _Adiós, mi hombre hermoso_ ,” Monica replied. “I wish you and _su_   _dulzura_ the best.”

“You too, Monica,” Phil said, nodding once again. He offered his hand and Monica took it, shaking it before letting go again. 

“If you ever need a lawyer,” Monica said, winking, “I’m your girl.”

Phil smiled and then walked out of the venue feeling sad to leave Monica like that. The timing couldn't have been worse but he knew that she would be better off with a man who loved her properly. Phil could never have loved her while Dan occupied his thoughts. He liked Monica, he really did – but his heart was all Dan’s. He had never truly been confused by that.

***

_One year later._

Dan and Phil had finally said their long overdue vows to each other, Phil’s arm around Dan’s waist as they mingled with the few guests in the crowd. The lights were low and it was raining outside. The weather cast a blue hue into the room and everything felt serene - Dan stared into Phil's eyes unashamedly, smiling foolishly. Phil was humming some waltz that he half knew and Dan pretended to be annoyed but nothing could really make him upset anymore.

Dan had insisted on inviting Monica but she didn’t turn up and they had to respect that. It might have been awkward for them anyway but they couldn’t deny that they missed her a lot. They hoped she was happier now than ever, as they were.

They stood under a ceiling of lights, slow dancing on stage as their guests thinned out toward the end of their wedding ceremony. Phil had picked the venue – Wilton’s Music Hall, mostly because he wanted Dan to play instrumental music for him at the end of the day. The hall had a character to it, created by the faded vintage wallpaper and symmetrical pillars and marble architecture - Dan knew he was going to remember this. The gentle hums courtesy of Phil against his ear, his head on Phil's shoulders as they danced under a chandelier. His feet felt like paperweights and he had eaten too much wedding cake but, by God, he had no regrets about any of this. The  _Exit Music_ playlist seemed surreal now, an artifact from the sad person he used to be - never in his dreams could he have believed that, one day, he could be this happy. Yet, here he was. 

Dan couldn’t believe how happy he was – he had the man of his dreams and he was arm in arm with him. And he felt like Phil could love him senseless and he felt terrified to lose himself to another person. But he knew he was in capable hands. He trusted Phil like no one else, not even himself. Dan knew that's what made him fearless. 

He wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck as Phil’s arms snaked around Dan’s waist.

“I love you so much,” Phil said, kissing Dan's cheek slowly, butterfly kisses, too soft to even realize they had happened.

“Not as much as I love you, you dork,” Dan replied. He allowed himself comfortable silence as he realized that he was finally getting to say what he had always wanted to say. All the unspoken words had been released - he felt alive. Dan had been resurrected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based off 'How Long Will I Love You?' by Ellie Goulding.


	9. Happy Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best man speech.

_Friends and family,_

_I’m here to celebrate the wedding day of my friend, Philip Lester. Phil. AmazingPhil. The username suits him well. It encompasses Phil in his totality, unlike danisnotonfire._

_Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here to express my appreciation for the best and kindest, most creative and most loving man I have ever known._

_I was young when I first met Phil, fresh out of high school when the exceptional AmazingPhil came into my life, on camera and behind a computer screen but he spoke to me like no other person had ever done in my life. I meant it with all my heart when I had said ‘This is the most fun I've ever had’ – I was wrong of course. My entire life with Phil has been an adventure. Trust me when I say, Monica, this man will never, ever let you down – he will look after you at your best and your worst. After all, I am always at my worst and we have managed to share a flat for a couple of years now. Phil’s patience is the eighth wonder of the world, if I am completely honest._

_Up until I met Phil, I was dismissive of the belief that I could be anyone’s number one choice. And, to be frank, I still find it unbelievable that Phil hasn’t managed to realize that I am a massively pretentious brat. Monica, Phil will provide you with the rays of sunshine you are deprived of from the general population of this universe – Phil Lester is one of a kind. I am so happy that he has met someone who exceeds his calibre. Apologies, Phil, but Monica is probably just a tiny bit more amazing than you are._

_Today, we celebrate the matrimony of the two best examples of human beings I have ever had the pleasure to have met._

_Phil, I just want to say something to you while I am in a slightly intoxicated state and capable of saying something nice to you without being a sarcastic arsehole. You’re starting a new chapter in your life but, as you turn the page, I just wanted to thank you for your friendship. This is the best version of reality I could never have imagined of having and I owe it all to you._

_I guess I have wanted to say this ever since we met in Manchester. I just wanted to tell you that I will always be your biggest fan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based off 'Happy Together' by The Turtles.  
> Thank you all soooo much for reading this fic :D  
> I hope you had as much pleasure reading as I did writing this!!
> 
> Oh, and the lovely crownofkingmoriarty made a playlist on 8tracks for this fic!  
> http://8tracks.com/crownofkingmoriarty/sweater-weather


End file.
